XVIIL 

 THE PET BIRDS OF ST. AUGUSTINE. 



THIS is a lovely day. The sun is bright and the air 

 balmy neither too warm nor too cool, I am 

 writing by the open window. Everything is as still as 

 if it were the Sabbath, Far out in the bay is a boat, in 

 which sits a man, lazily fishing. A querulous crow flies 

 by, hoarsely croaking, and the white wing of a gull 

 gleams distantly in the sunlight. The old flag is gently 

 floating in the soft south wind. The sky is blue, the 

 waves are bright and glancing, and a general sense of 

 laziness seems to pervade the air, and one feels like 

 leaning on the sill and gazing out on the quiet beauty of 

 the scene forever. In the distance, above the belt of 

 dark- green trees, is the lighthouse, with its pure white 

 tower pointing heavenward, like a tall church spire, and 

 its blessed star of hope on the summit. Right below it 

 and cresting the sand hills of Anastasia Island, is the 

 long line of evergreen, with an occasional palm-tree, 

 whose feathery fronds wave above the general mass of 

 foliage, the very emblem of grace. To the south are the 

 storehouses and buildings for the workmen engaged in 

 erecting the new lighthouse, which, when completed, 

 will stand one hundred and eighty feet above the water, 

 with a light of the first order visible twenty-eight miles 

 at sea. To the north extend the long line of breakers 



